About A Horse
by Intestines
Summary: Loki had "such dealings" with the stallion Svadilfari that he later gave birth to a grey foal with eight legs. – Loki simply admires horses from all walks of life, in any form. Miniseries, unconnected drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes: **Set in some unspecified time after the events of the Avengers. Also, for the lulz.  
crack!fic?

_I wanted someone  
__To review. Here's a haiku,  
__So please do that. Thanks._

* * *

**1: Gentlemen's Literature**

It seemed to be the last shift of the evening and barely anyone else was in the cramped convenience store. Loki watched from the back of the shop as the final customer – a hunched-over old lady in a beige raincoat – shuffled out. He turned surreptitiously to the magazine rack next to him, uncomfortably aware that the cashier had his eyes trained upon him.

His own eyes wondered restlessly across the glossy covers for a moment, taking in the scantily-clad Midgardian women and shiny cars. 'Men's Interest', read the sign above this section. _Good_, thought Loki. He would be passing as a normal, everyday human man. Hesitantly, sure that the cashier, bored almost to death, was still watching him, he reached out and pulled one of the books from its rack. The front cover posed in aggressive red lettering the question of whether or not he knew what women really wanted. He supposed he didn't.

The cashier was still watching him, he knew, and thus it was with the greatest care and subtlety that he allowed his eyes to flicker up from the magazine he held in his hands and across to the display to his left. Cavorting across the covers was a plethora of beautiful horses: chestnut, grey, black, bay… Loki leaned sideways to have a closer look. There were dozens of breeds featured: Thoroughbreds, Clydesdales, Appaloosas, even one Shetland pony…

Men's magazine quite forgotten, Loki let it drop to his side as he stared at the likeness of the gorgeous creatures cavorting before him. They were stunning. He couldn't imagine anything more radiant. He sighed softly.

Trying not to draw the attention of the cashier any more than he already had, Loki quietly closed the men's magazine, replaced it, and stepped over to the rack with the horse magazines. Not wanting to seem odd or un-Midgardian – he wasn't sure if this was considered normal behaviour here; it wasn't on Asgard – he gathered as many as he could, as quickly as he could. He wasn't entirely sure what they were. He only caught a glimpse of some titles as he swept them into his arms (_Equine Journal_, _Horse &Rider_…), pressed them to his chest, and spun around, making straight for the checkout and trying to look entirely normal.

The cashier cocked a brow as Loki placed his items on the desk, but didn't say anything. He began to scan them through the till silently, and Loki watched his face closely, looking for any signs of suspicion or judgement or disgust, trying his hardest not to shake with anxiety. The cashier looked at him blankly, but Loki could feel condemnation oozing from him. At the last magazine, he raised his eyebrows, as if to say he knew very well what Loki was up to, and Loki, unable to stand it any more, snapped hotly, "I only get them for the articles!"


	2. Chapter 2

**2: Taxi**

It was a grey sort of day. Raining, in fact. Loki was pacing along the streets of New York City, looking for some place to stage his next overtaking of the planet, or perhaps a nice coffee shop.

The Midgardian city was filled with sounds he wasn't used to hearing on Asgard. There was the continuous thunder of footsteps, the roar of engines from their metal carriages, the buzzing of glowing lights and a thousand other sounds that he could neither recognise nor categorise. Children whooped with laughter as they sped past him in a clattering shopping cart, and Loki knew enough about Midgardian customs to know that it was stolen from someplace. As they careered past him, screeching and nearly knocking into him, he decided that when he finally conquered Earth, they would be the first to die.

Perhaps it was just the dull drizzle affecting his mood, though, because a second later all his ill will towards the youngsters vanished as he heard the most beautiful sound he'd heard all day. It sounded close; it was high and strong and clear and coming from just past the buildings in front of him.

It was a horse's whinny.

Disregarding all those around him, Loki all but sprinted the next few feet. Rounding the corner of what might have been an office building or a bank or a law firm or anything else, he came to the mouth of an alley. Trashcans lurked in the shadows. It was murky and grimy and stank to high heaven, but Loki didn't notice any of that because he was staring directly through the alley and past a high mesh gate, to where some nondescript Misgardian was leading a horse into a large metal box. It was attached to a Midgardian vehicle.

The horse – at least sixteen hands – was a rich chestnut colour, its silky coat splattered lightly with the rain that was falling, drops hanging from its eyelashes like from the petals of a rose. Its ears were tiny, delicate, its eyes a deep, dark brown.

Loki didn't realise, but he had walked into the middle of the alleyway, unconscious of the stench and the dirt, and his hands were on the gate, his face pressed to it, trying to get a better look at the horse. It seemed to know he was there. As he wondered what to do – he couldn't let it leave without making himself known to it – it inclined its head to him, and, he swore, winked.

That was it. Loki watched, stunned and open-mouthed, as the horse was led into its box. The Midgardian pulled the door shut, unaware Loki was watching, and began to move away. Loki released his grip on the metal gate and backed away, slowly at first, but faster as he came to a decision. He turned, and sprinted back up the alley, almost slipping over on some slimy dribble.

In the street, he pelted flat-out towards the end of the block, pushing past insignificant humans who grumbled and yelled and cursed, but he didn't care. All he cared about was reaching – yes. He rounded the end of the street and up ahead, he saw the motor carriage and its precious cargo begin to move in the opposite direction. Desperate, Loki looked around.

One of those yellow cab things would do.

He sprinted to one parked by the roadside, banging his palms against the window. The man in the driver's seat looked startled, and for a moment, Loki realised how he must look – a wet, bedraggled man with a crazy look in his eyes. But he was willing to risk ridicule if it meant he wouldn't lose his chance. The driver wound down his window.

"Are you working at the moment?"

"Yeah." The driver looked slightly alarmed at the prospect of having to accommodate him, but complied. "Where can I take you?"

Loki pulled the door open wordlessly and slipped into the seat, trying to catch his breath. When he had quite done this, he sat up straight, fastened his seatbelt, and said firmly, "Follow that car."


	3. Chapter 3

**3: The Godhead**

It was past midnight. Loki was sure that people would doubt his reasons for visiting the DVD rental store that late, but he had weighed up his options, and decided that the Midgardian folk who were out that late and would see him had much more sordid motives than he did. His motives were entirely pure. He just didn't want to face the judgement of the regular DVD-renting crowd. He had learned that the people of New York City were (unsurprisingly) rather intolerant of his passion.

He passed through the forest of shelves, going through the plastic covers, peering at their titles and the flashy images on the front. He had found several that had captured his interest, and they were now held close to his chest, but there was one drama in particular he had heard of, and, indeed, felt a burning desire to see. But he couldn't find it, and this displeased him. The Midgardian 'Internet' had informed him of its existence.

Annoyed, he strode to the counter. A young woman with messy red hair, overlarge glasses and a bored expression was 'working' there. In reality, she was staring at her small flashing communication device. Loki had been told it was called a phone. He gave a small cough. The girl looked up.

"Oh… Hi," she said, and gave him a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering," said Loki, "have you a film called _Equus_?"

The girl frowned. "I don't think so. Did they make a film of that?"

"Yes," said Loki firmly.

"Well, I don't think I ever heard of it, and I would've, 'cause I am a _huge_ _Harry Potter_ fan. Is that why you wanted it?"

"Oh," said Loki. "Yes. That is why. I very much admire Radcliffe's acting talents. But this film was released, I believe, in 1977 AD."

"But… Daniel Radcliffe wasn't even born then," said the girl, wrinkling her nose.

"Yes, I _know_," said Loki, "I simply wanted to see an adaption of the play he was in."

"All right…" said the girl, looking genuinely confused. "Well, if it's not out there, I don't think we have it."

"That's fine," sighed Loki. "I'll just take these, then." He dropped the DVDs from his arms onto the countertop, and they spilled out, their covers facing upwards. The girl looked at them as she gathered them into a pile.

"So, that's… _Black Beauty_, _War Horse_, _National Velvet_, _The Horse Whisperer_ …" Loki winced. "You know Daniel Radcliffe isn't in any of these, right?"

"What I do in my own time," snapped Loki, "is my own business!"


End file.
